


Flame of Fear

by MonkaMoo_fanfic



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23974870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonkaMoo_fanfic/pseuds/MonkaMoo_fanfic
Summary: “You can stay a while longer. Please?” I can see him hesitate, but in the end, it seems my ‘please’ won the battle. “Okay,” he says with a hint of a smile. “Just until you fall asleep.” He sits on the plush chair by the window in my room. I fall asleep with no jolts of alarm, and for the first time in months, I sleep straight through the break of dawn.----I always imagined the gap between returning to District 12 after the 74th Games and the Victory Tour as having gone differently. I never understood how Katniss and Peeta fell out (although I apparently didn't read the books very well the first time). So in my story, they stay on good terms.This is probably the least compelling summary ever, but I'd be very grateful if you read this short little fic! I'm proud of how much I've grown writing it. :)
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1: Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mizeliza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizeliza/gifts).



Quick Note: Anything that appears in **bold** and _italics_ _**(like this)**_ are direct quotes from the books OR the movies! This is important stuff, people! I don't own the Hunger Games-- it's just always on my mind. Now, onto what you came here for:

**1: Nightmares**

I shoot straight up in bed as my eyes adjust to the darkness. I wonder what has startled me awake as I hear an awful scream. I only recognize it as my own when I feel the tears on my cheeks. Grabbing onto the blankets, my anxiety subsides and a new wave of emotion washes over me. 

Longing. I realize I am lonely. I try to think of something comforting and it comes to me immediately. My dream of assassinating President Snow. Spending time with Prim. Hunting with Gale in the woods. The meadow. Lying next to Peeta in the cave…

I decide that it’s no use trying to go back to sleep, so I quietly slip on my boots and my hunting jacket and head out onto the street of Victor’s Village.

I kind of hate Victor’s Village. My new house can easily fit five of the house I grew up in. Everything seems too nice, too big, too set apart. The Capitol has made this house mine, but to me, the Seam is my real home.

I consider going there now but instead sit on the front porch. Lost in my swarming thoughts, I don’t notice the curtains opening on an upstairs window across the street.

“Hey,” says Peeta, joining me in a rocking chair. “Can’t sleep?” 

“Nope,” I say. “Why are you awake?”

“I was sleeping restlessly when I heard you come out here.”

“I’m sorry,” I say honestly. Peeta deserves to sleep.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t like what I see when I sleep.”

I know what he means. The Hunger Games haunt our dreams at night. Cato, blood everywhere, binding Peeta in a chokehold. Clove, limp after Thresh slammed her body into the wall of the cornucopia. Glimmer, swollen and tense from thousands of trackerjacker stings. Marvel with my arrow in his chest. Rue, impaled by Marvel’s spear, sighing her last breath in the meadow. Peeta, bleeding and feverish in the dripping cave. 

“Me too,” I say. I want to say more, to be able to choose the perfect words to portray what I really feel, but that’s all that comes out. Luckily, there’s a moment of stillness that allows me to recover from this setback. We sit in a comfortable silence swallowed by our thoughts, perhaps both reflecting on the grim scenes of the past summer.

It’s Autumn now, the trees changing colors and painting the ground with their flame-colored leaves. The forest will be full of game soon, and I’ll have plenty to trade. The fresh, cooler air feels refreshing, but I can still taste the old horrors.

Peeta seems to sense my growing panic and reaches out a hand.

“Would you like to go inside?” he asks. I must have made some sort of face because he continues, “You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to. What if… we could bake instead.”

Ten minutes later finds us in my kitchen, trying desperately to find yeast without waking my mother and Prim.

“Katniss, how do you not know where yeast is? I just brought you some, didn’t I?” Peeta whispered, literally crawling into a cabinet.

“I’m not a baker! I don’t keep track of it-- which, by the way, I’m still in shock over the fact that yeast is  _ alive-- _ ” Peeta laughs, hitting his head on the cabinet door. I can’t help but laugh until Peeta shushes me, pointing upstairs. “I think Prim used it last. She was trying out the braided bread recipe you gave her.”

Peeta gives up looking and instead grabs the jar of yeast from his own house. While he’s still across the street, Buttercup the cat stalks downstairs and hops up onto the counter to inspect the unmixed dough. 

“Get down,” I say to the scruffy tabby. “Go find Prim.” The stupid thing just meowls and nearly knocks the pestle of salt to the floor. I catch the pestle just in time. Buttercup seems to realize I’m upset now, so he nudges my arm with his soft forehead. 

“You’re a frustrating thing,” I say, sneaking in a little scratch between his ears. I stop before he starts purring, though, and without being  _ too _ rough, I toss him to the floor. “I still hate you.”

“How nice of you,” says Peeta from the foyer.

“Shut up,” I poke back.

When the honey-glazed buns are finished, I pour some milk from Prim’s goat into two glasses. We eat the buns when they’re still way too hot and lick the glaze from our fingers. 

“That hit the spot,” Peeta says, getting the cloth from on the faucet to wash his plate and cup with. I join him at the sink, using the second cloth to dry the dishes. As I put away the plates, I let out a huge yawn. “Are you feeling tired, now?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. I sit on the kitchen table and inspect the grains that ribbon across the surface.

“I’ll go and let you get some sleep.” He puts his jar of yeast in his coat pocket and is about to leave when an objection falls from my lips.

“Peeta?” I say, stopping him on his way to the foyer.

“Yeah?”

“You can stay a while longer. Please?” I can see him hesitate, but in the end, it seems my ‘please’ won the battle.

“Okay,” he says with a hint of a smile. “Just until you fall asleep.” He sits on the plush chair by the window in my room. I fall asleep with no jolts of alarm, and for the first time in months, I sleep straight through the break of dawn. 

I tell Peeta in the morning about my peaceful night. We do this every day for the rest of the week and celebrate fewer nightmares. One night, Peeta is uninspired, so I tell him to use the old strawberries nobody’s eaten yet. He whips up an amazing batch of strawberry vanilla muffins that surprise my mother and Prim in the morning. When a new bakery delight rests on the dessert tray three mornings in a row, my mother shoots me a look but doesn’t say anything. I figure she knows who’s been over each night to bake, but neither Peeta or I make an effort to be more discreet.

Peeta makes me cheese buns one week. When I tell him they’re my new favorite, he starts bringing me a supply of cheese buns often. Another night, we make dinner rolls. Or he makes dinner rolls and I make a mess of the flour. Eventually, I get frustrated and throw a pile of the stuff. Some land on Peeta’s nose, making him sneeze. He tosses some flour at me and it takes a lot of effort to keep our laughter quiet.

We make chocolate chip blondies one night at Prim’s request. My mother even lets Prim stay up late with us, so we start our baking earlier. Everything goes great and we’re laughing and having a great time, but then Prim cuts her finger chopping chocolate chunks. She’s fine, but that night I wake up from a nightmare where Prim with her cut finger gets swallowed by a golden haze and turns into Rue with the spear in her chest and blood down her shirt. I scream for a time before I clasp my hand over my mouth, trying desperately to stop the terrible gasping sounds. I think my door opens a crack, but I’m too busy trying to shake the terror and the sleepy haze in my eyes. I feel the mattress shift beside me and suddenly Peeta is there, arms around me, shushing me gently. I’m too out of it to wonder how he got there. He softly whispers comforting things. Everything fades, my breathing slows. I pull Peeta closer and drift into sleep.

When I wake up in the morning, Peeta is still beside me. I blink in momentary confusion but Peeta greets me with a smile and an unexpected calm feeling washes over me.

“Good morning,” he hums. “How are you feeling?”

“No nightmares,” I say. “How did you… how did you know?” I try to say what I mean but it doesn’t seem to come out right. Peeta knows what I mean anyway.

“Your mother called me last night, asking me to help you.” He gets up and opens the window on the opposite wall. I am now bathed in warm sunlight. It must be mid-morning.

“Oh,” I say. I wonder why she felt the need to call Peeta instead of coming in herself. Or just letting me suffer alone. Peeta breaks the silence.

“I think your mother and Prim have breakfast for us downstairs. Why don’t you get changed and I’ll go get some things from my house and I’ll see you at breakfast?” He doesn’t seem worried at all about either family member’s ideas of what we could be up to. And when he walks out the front door in his pajamas, nobody says a thing.

Peeta doesn’t come over during the day, but most nights he at least stops by to talk for a while. I don’t ask what he does all day. There’s not much to do. I hunt with Gale and deliver non-perishable foods, game, and materials to families in the Seam. Prim cares for her goat and takes walks in the meadow, coming back each day with a fistful of wildflowers. My mother calls on young families to teach them first aid for their small children, such as fever care and minor cuts and burns. We keep busy, yet I feel like a sitting duck. I feel pointless, until one day, Effie calls on the phone around suppertime raving about a “big, big, day!” 

In a week, she explains, there will be a party in the Capitol, and Peeta and I are invited. I’m not particularly excited about this idea, but it’ll give me a chance to see Cinna again. But then I think of all the prep I’ll have to go through and I go back to feeling unhappy about it. Peeta thanks Effie and says he looks forward to it. Effie goes on for a minute about how it’ll be “a night to remember” and “such a treat” for us, and we say goodnight. That evening, I don’t say much, I don’t see Peeta, and I don’t sleep. I spend much of the train trip to the capitol wandering the cars or hiding away in my room. Effie, when she sees me at dinner, practically shakes a finger at me for my “manners”. Haymitch tells her that as long as I behave nicely at the party, I’m not hurting anyone by being alone on the trip.

One night, I run into Peeta while I’m wandering. Neither of us want to sleep, and I’m too tired to feel like talking. So Peeta asks for some warm milk and we sit at the very back of the train, watching the lamplit world go by. The arrival of the Capitol attendant with the warm milk breaks the silence. 

_**He sets a tray with a steaming ceramic jug and two mugs on a table. “I brought an extra cup,” he says.** _

_**“Thanks,” I say.** _

_**“And I added a touch of honey to the milk. For sweetness. And just a pinch of spice,” he adds.** _ He leaves without any other explanation. Peeta and I sip warm milk quietly.

“I’ve been thinking.” he says, “We’ve risked our lives for each other, we made it through the games together, and we suffer through nightmares together. But…  _**I hardly know anything about you except that you’re stubborn and good with the bow.”** _

_**“That about sums me up.”** _

“I know there’s more to you than that, things that I don’t know yet. _**You see, Katniss, the way the whole friend thing works is you have to tell each other the deep stuff.”** _

_**“The deep stuff?”** _ I ask, unsure if I’m going to regret this line of conversation.

_**“Yeah.”** _

_**“Uh-oh, like what?”** _

_**“Like…what’s your favorite color?”** _ Oh.

_**“Well, now you’ve stepped over the line.”** _ I say, making him laugh.

_**“Seriously though, what is it?”** _ He asks softly. I try to picture it.

_**“Green,”** _ I say, thinking of the woods. _**“**_ _**What’s yours?”** _

_**“Orange.”** _ He laughs when I make a puzzled face, picturing the fruit rind. “But muted,  _**more like a sunset kind of orange.”** _

_**Sunset. I can see it immediately, the rim of the descending sun, the sky streaked with soft shades of orange.** _ He gives me another soft, sweet smile. I finish my drink and we sleep, guarding each other against nightmares.

The next morning, Haymitch knocks on Peeta’s door to wake him up. Apparently we’ve arrived in the Capitol. Effie meets Haymitch out in the hall, explaining to him that I must not be in my room.

“Let’s start breakfast.” Haymitch says, “They’ll be out in a minute.” I can’t help but think that Haymitch has figured out our sleeping arrangement.

The prepping starts early that morning. Cinna, Flavius, Octavia, and Venia are already there, ready to make me likeable again. As I stew in the vile bath that will help strip my body of its hair, I’m amused at the size of my prep team compared to Peeta’s. He has just his stylist, Portia, and his prep person, Augusta.

Finally, I’m scrubbed, creamed, sprayed, and combed, the prep team leaves and Cinna comes in. Right away, he hugs me.

“It’s been a while, girl on fire.” he says, pulling away. “I think you’ll like this one.” He pulls out a dark green taffeta dress with folds of fabric along the neckline that look like leaves. There are brushed gold shoes and a gold necklace that both look either like leaves or small feathers. I can’t tell which, but the ensemble reminds me of home and being in the woods.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, fingering the dress fabric. 

Cinna led me to the salon chair. He transformed my clean and dried wild waves into long highlighted ringlets falling down the curve of my back. He styled it next, drawing the hairs at the front of my with layers of delicate twists, snapping the twists shut at the back of my head with a small but elaborate gold barrette. 

“I look like the forest.” I observe when he asks me to spin. 

“I thought it would make you think of home.”

“Thank you, Cinna.” I welcome his embrace. 

I begin to think the party won’t be so bad after all.

* * *


	2. 2: The Party

**2: The Party**

When we get to the mansion, I distinctly hear music blasting and the sound of people laughing. We are “fashionably late”, as Effie likes to say, so the party can’t have been on for more than an hour. Yet, most of the Capitol attendees are already drunk. I want to roll my eyes at the greed of these entitled civilians, but Effie has her eyes firmly on me. 

“This is an honor to be invited here. Many important figures are here tonight. Mingle, make friends-” she nods at Peeta, “-and mind your manners. That means you, Katniss!”

All I say is, “fine”, but then Effie runs into someone with blue braids, golden skin, and an indigo jumpsuit who she must have known for a while because she immediately greets them with a kiss on both cheeks.

It seems like we’re immediately the center of attention. It’s like they’re all magnetized to us-- or rather, to Peeta, since he does most of the talking and all of the wooing. The whole time, Peeta doesn’t leave my side.

Eventually, Octavia finds us, asking if we’ve tried the soup. I look around the room, seeing only people dancing and mingling.

“No. I didn’t see any food.” I say.

“Not here,” she says, like  _ obviously! _ “Come with me.” She takes me by the hand (which I don’t know whether to think it’s endearing or restricting) and leads Peeta and me under an archway across the ballroom. It’s another large room, maybe two-thirds the size of the ballroom, filled entirely with food.

On eight long rows of tables sat soups, sandwiches, cooked and raw vegetables and fruits. The breads and desserts took up three tables on their own. At the end of the rows was a whole pig roast with an apple in its mouth, much like the one which I sent an arrow flying past the Gamemakers. At least this time, I’m commanding more attention than a dead farm animal.

“Well, enjoy!” says Octavia, “Some of the best foods are here on the menu tonight. Oh, you might like the green herb soup, Katniss. It’s the third one from the left, first table.” 

On the soup table, there is a variety of colors and flavors. I choose a potato and leek soup that seems simple enough but tastes extravagant. I finish the soup right as Peeta brings me another that looks intriguing. The place card says it’s spaghetti with an Italian sausage bolognese. It’s another exceptional dish. I get up again to find some bread and end up with a rosemary roll, a pumpernickel roll, and one more soup bowl which turns out to be a creamy pumpkin blend with a distinct nutty flavor. At the vegetable table, our favorite discovery is a cold dish of a green that seems half asparagus and half broccoli- called rapini- with a sharp goat-like cheese crumbled on top. I eat a few cucumber sandwiches and a caramel apple before braving the dessert tables with Peeta. At this point, I am thankful that, although there is way more food here than all of these people can eat in one evening, everything seems to be in small, manageable servings. After spacing out my dishes, I have room to try a few desserts.

The first thing I set my eyes on are these perfect, almost translucent dumplings with soft, sweet yellow filling. They remind me of eggs. Next, I’m attracted to this chocolate and vanilla cream pastry. Lastly, Peeta and I both try a layered dish with chocolate mousse, dark chocolate ice cream, and fresh raspberries. We leave the room feeling happy but extremely full. 

I feel a tap on my shoulder as I’m walking back to the ballroom with Peeta. I turn and see the blue-haired person Effie was talking to earlier. 

“Hello, Katniss. Hello, Peeta. I’m Grey Maddox. It’s a pleasure to meet you! How are you enjoying the party?”

“We’re having a nice time.” Peeta says naturally. “I’m enjoying the music, and the food is great.”

“Have you danced any?” Grey asked.

“We shared a few dances.” grants Peeta.

“But now we’re too full to dance anymore.” I add.

“Come with me.” Grey says, beckoning us over to a long counter at the back of the room and handing us long cylindrical glasses full of lime green liquid.

“What is this?” I question, curious from the looks of the drink.

“It’s a palate cleanser.” Grey explains. “It might look strange, but it doesn’t taste bad. And it helps with the fullness.” Peeta and I share a look as we try the green drink together. 

“Why don’t you try something else? There’s something for everybody. It was really nice to meet you both.” Grey adds, walking away. I was left the impression that Grey was oddly normal for a Capitol citizen. 

Unsure what to do next, I ask for a drink suggestion. The bartender hands me a glass flute half filled with a clear liquor and red sugar along the rim. He holds it up to one of the flames on the countertop and the sugar lights up for a split second.

“This is called flaming arrow,” he says with a grin, “Perfect for a girl on fire. Don’t worry, it looks menacing and it does have a kick, but it’s not strong enough to get you drunk.” Once the sugar cools, I take a sip. It tastes smoky and warm, and it leaves a hint of cinnamon on my tongue. I offer a taste to Peeta. We swap drinks and I taste his choice-- something with the flavor of buttercups and honey served over ice.

“Would you like to dance?” Peeta asks sweetly.

“Yes,” I say, setting down my empty glass. I immediately wish I had said something more sophisticated. “I’d like that.”

Good enough. It makes Peeta smile.

He leads me out onto the dance floor, taking my hand in one of his and my waist in the other. For a while, I just watch his blue eyes as he watches me. Then, like I often do, I become fascinated by something. This time, it’s watching the skirt of my dress swirl around with every step. After a few dances, my feet begin to hurt, so I stop dancing and leave my shoes at the table where Effie sits with a glass of champagne. As I unbuckle the gold heels, I see someone approach Peeta out of the corner of my eye. They smile at each other and introduce themselves. The capitol girl seems to ask Peeta a question and he holds his arm out in my direction. They both come over to the table.

“This is Katniss. Katniss, this is Ambell Rane.”

“Hello,” I say. I greet about eight more people between dances and drinks. I grow tired of all the people, but I smile and make conversation. It’s almost midnight before Effie finds us, Haymitch tagging along behind her. As we walk the few blocks to the tribute center where we’ll be staying the night, Peeta notices my lack of expression.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say with a weary sigh. “It’s been a long night.”

“I know.” he agrees. “It just seems like something’s on your mind.”

He always knows when I’m thinking deeply about things. He’s right, something is bothering me.

“I keep thinking about all of those people we met. They’re so invested in our lives that they were trying to set wedding dates for us.”

“What?” Haymitch whirls around with a look of surprise.

“Yeah. Some of them were asking when we’re getting married.” Peeta clarified. 

“It just makes me think. If we don’t keep playing Capitol’s game like we did in the arena…”

“You finally figured it out, huh, sweetheart?” Haymitch teases.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not just this year. Your life now belongs to the Capitol. Every year, they’ll broadcast the details of your life, your romance. And living a lie-- that takes a lot out of a person. Believe me, I know.”

I think I understand Haymitch better now. I remember watching him when I was growing up. Rather, the tidied-up, woodworking district 12 victor version of him that the Capitol showed off. As soon as the cameras leave, though, he turns to drink to swallow down those terrible memories. His camera life is a lie.

The delayed impact of the conversation hits me. Every year, the Capitol will broadcast my life and Peeta’s life. Some of the people of District 12 might know better, as my friends and family certainly do, but to the rest of Panem, our lives are one and the same. And changing that threatens everything.

“You’re saying--”

“We’ll get married.” Peeta says suddenly. I whirl around to face him. Everyone stops walking. Even Effie is surprised.

“Not right now,” he adds. “We can take some time. Strengthen our relationship. And then, when you’re ready, Katniss, we’ll have a wedding.”

He leaves a pause for me to add my thoughts, but I can’t respond just yet. 

“Think about it. It’s destined to happen anyway. I don’t want your family at risk. If we don’t do it, you know Snow will have things to say, most likely threats.” I think of President Snow’s disapproving eyes at the coronation and I know what he says is true. We are being carefully watched.

The rest of the walk was silent. I’m sure that just like me, nobody else knew what to say after that. Other than the sound of Effie’s heels hitting the pavement and my jewelry clinking, there wasn’t a sound. Everyone said a polite ‘goodnight’ or ‘sleep well’ before disappearing. I started in the direction of my room, but Peeta caught my hand first. He and I soundlessly slipped past to his room.

“I know we are both tired, and we should both get some sleep. I just wanted to make sure that I didn’t say anything too abruptly earlier. I didn’t mean to be so upfront about it, and I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” He left a pause, but my head was spinning, so I didn’t answer. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” 

“I’m thinking so much it’s hard to sort it out.” 

“Okay. Did I say anything wrong?” Peeta asks hopefully.

“No.” I say. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay with it? In the future?”

I realize he’s basically proposing to me. I should feel butterflies or something, right? But all I feel is a spinning head and a racing heart. Suddenly I wonder if the drinks may have made a difference after all.

In the arena, I would have been stopped short by thoughts of my family and Gale. But my Mother’s welcoming of Peeta when we got home months ago means I don’t have to worry about her approval. Prim, of course, loved Peeta right away. As for Gale-- I still hunt with him, but he’s learned the consequences of the Hunger Games mean I can’t think about him that way. Which means the only one I need to worry about is me.

Anyone who knows me knows that being personal, honest, and open is hard for me. After this ordeal, I can’t have many secrets left to hide, but my emotions almost always stay locked away. Usually, I swallow the tough feeling in my throat, forcing emotions down, tight and secure in my chest. I feel that Peeta is trying to draw them back out of me. It feels uncomfortable, but at the same time, I wonder if it’s time. I unlock that safe that sits heavy now in my chest. Out comes all of these memories and feelings from reaping day. Prep week. The Games. Lots of things from those nights in the caves. 

“I didn’t know what I felt, when I found you that day. I didn’t know for a long time. It’s not fair to you, that I was kissing you before I loved you. I owed you. You gave me bread. You let me live. I even drugged you! That was unforgivable and still, you forgave me. I didn’t understand why you would do those things for me.When you told me not to die for you, when I told you that you were what kept me going-- I should’ve known then. I couldn’t tell what was real and what was for the cameras. But now, I know. I know all of it. And if all of that leads to this, even if I didn’t want to, I’d do it. I owe it to you.” I finally can breathe now, although I hide my surprise at the amount of words that just seemed to flow out of me.

“Katniss, is this what you want?” Peeta asks. “Are you absolutely sure? Because, I’m sure we can come up with some--”

Before he can finish, I kiss him. He immediately responds, and by the time we break apart, he’s grinning.

“You really mean it.” He observes. “We’re going to do this?”

“I’m still learning how to love you, so I need time! But, yes, let’s do it.” I just stare into Peeta’s baby blue eyes as he smiles. He’s leaning back on his elbows on the bed, all relaxed. All of a sudden, he bursts out laughing and without knowing why, I join in. We laugh until Peeta points out the tears in my eyes.

“Oh, no, you’re crying!” says Peeta. The laughter leaves us both as he brings a thumb up to my cheek and wipes the tears away. I let him lean in close until our noses practically touch. His lips feel soft against mine. For a moment, all of my concerns dissolve and all I know is the present moment. My body melting into the bedsheets. Peeta’s hands in my hair. His lips on mine. The stirring I feel in my chest, and the hunger, so different from the kind I’m so used to, growing to an unbearable strength. 

I’m reminded once again that although Peeta would never say it, I still owe him. Without thinking, I roll over onto my stomach and gently push Peeta down onto his back. I lean in for another kiss, no longer afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> For this story, I have to thank my little sister, Julia, for helping me write! We discuss, she writes some jibberish plot, and I make it "englisheable" :)
> 
> Thanks for reading this unplanned little fic! If you'd like to hear more from me, here's where you can reach me (I'm a lot of fun!):
> 
> Instagram: @monkamoo_fanfic  
> Tumblr: monkamoofanfic  
> Fanfiction.net: MonkaMoo


End file.
